we talked about this
by impossiblepluto
Summary: "I watch your back. We talked about this." Jack Dalton (published AO3 1/19/19)


Author's Note: I may have been inspired by a scene from White Collar

MACGYVER

Onion bagels are Mac's favorite. There's one shop on the drive from Jack's to Mac's that bakes amazing New York style bagels. They are the perfect consistency, with the creamiest shmear of cream cheese. When Mac and Nicki were dating, before she faked her death and turned out to be a traitor, Mac stopped eating the onion bagels because Nicki hated them so much. Said she didn't like it when he had onion breath and that she could still taste it even after he'd brushed his teeth.

In hindsight, Jack is pretty sure she was lying. He can see now what he couldn't see then, how much Nicki enjoyed twisting Mac around her finger. Little, inconsequential things that she would tell Mac she didn't like, and he would immediately change to receive her approval. Like the bagel thing. For the last two years when Jack stopped for bagels he got Mac a poppy seed bagel with plain cream cheese. Nothing for Nicki to complain about.

This morning though, as he went to place his order, he paused and ordered Mac's old staple, with a smile.

Mac is planning to be in the lab all day, and Jack is planning to spend most of the day listening to him get his nerd on. There's a lot of stuff Mac says that Jack doesn't understand, though it's less than most people think. Jack's got a good head for numbers; he has to, to be a sniper and a pilot. His big dumb good ol' southern boy is an act. People underestimate him when they think he doesn't know what they're talking about.

Plus, he needs to know enough about what Mac's talking about if he wants to intentionally get Mac annoyed and riled up mid-science lecture. It's going to be fun showing up in the lab with bagels because Mac is going to lecture him on lab safety, and that always gets lab days off to a good start. It really is the little things in life.

He's got his day mostly planned, so he's a little put out when he arrives in the lab, bearing gifts, and Mac isn't there. A once over of Mac's work station, it doesn't look like he's just stepped away for a minute. He's pretty certain that Mac had planned to drive himself. And he knows he would have heard from Mac already if he'd been expecting a ride.

He pulls out his phone and notices he's missed a text:

_ New assignment. Back tonight. Pizza?_

Jack growls. Patty should know better than to send Mac off alone. They're partners for a reason. He stalks down the hallway on a mission to get some answers.

* * *

"Where is he, Patty?" Jack asks, flinging the door open and striding inside.

Director Thornton eyes Jack evenly, as if he didn't just interrupt a briefing with another team of agents. She slowly lifts her coffee mug to her lips and takes a sip. Her eyes never leaving Jack's.

Jack forces himself to relax. Patricia Thornton has the patience of a sniper. Jack can bluster around the office yelling and ranting, and she'll barely move a muscle, not even a twitch. He can interrupt a meeting and she won't yell. Just stare him down, with an icy look. It is the most irritating thing about her. He needs to work for someone who will yell back.

She swallows her coffee and raises an eyebrow at him, and Jack almost loses it.

Her mouth twitches infinitesimally. Jack knows she's enjoying this.

"Agent Dalton, who are you looking for?"

She's purposefully baiting him, he knows it. Jack takes a deep breath; clears his throat. She's going to make him play that game.

"Mac."

"Oh," she pauses. "Agent MacGyver was sent on an assignment." She turns back to the other agents, who are clearly wishing they were anywhere else but in this room.

"Alone?" Jack presses. He's not going to give in that easily.

She carefully looks him up and down. "Mac was called in as a consultant. It's a local lab, here in LA."

"You didn't answer my question, is he alone?"

"Yes," Thornton says simply.

"Patty, I'm Mac's back up! His body guard. You can't send him off on a mission without me."

Thornton cocks her head to one side. "This is not a mission. We were called because of our status as a reputable think tank and a resource for other laboratories with government contracts. Mac was sent because it's his area of expertise. He was sent as a consultant, not an agent. And I don't have to run any of this by you first."

Jack takes a deep breath, "Patty..." he begins.

Thornton steps up into his space, standing nearly eye to eye with him. "No, Jack, you are out of line." Her voice is even, but there is a cold fury hidden underneath. "I am in the middle of a briefing, these agents are wheels up in twenty minutes and I imagine they would like to know a little about what they're walking into."

Jack glances over Patty's shoulder at the agents, who are very purposefully not looking anywhere near this conversation, then meets her gaze again.

"Unless you want to find yourself benched, and Mac paired with a new partner during that time, I suggest you find something productive to do with your suddenly free morning." She gracefully steps around him and continues with the brief as if she hadn't been interrupted.

Jack stands there for a moment, recognizing that he's been dismissed. With fists clenched he stalks out of the room.

* * *

His fists pound against the punching bag.

Jab, jab, cross.

Cross, jab, cross.

Jab. Cross, cross.

Jab. Jab. Jab.

His t-shirt is sodden. Sweat pouring down his face. He blinks hard against the sting as it runs into his eyes. The punching bag taking the brunt of his frustration. Using the bite of pain from his overworked muscles to burn away his anger.

"Hey, Captain America," Riley's voice breaks through the fugue. "How many punching bags did you destroy today?"

Jack stops the punch mid-throw, turning to look at Riley. He pulls the edge of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his eyes. "What're you doing down here?"

Riley shrugs. "It's long past lunch time. Wondering if you wanted to take a break?"

Jack glances at the clock on the wall, noticing that he's been at this for hours. "You wanna track Mac's phone instead?"

Riley gives a half laugh "Ah, no. I heard all about your pissing match with Thornton. I don't think it's a good idea for me to get in the middle of it."

Jack reluctantly nods, conceding. "Wait for me to shower?"

"Absolutely, you look and smell like an animal."

Jack reaches over as if to pull her into a hug.

"Ew! Jack," she pushes him away. "I'm suddenly very much on your side of the argument. Mac's not allowed to go anywhere if he doesn't take you with him."

Jack laughs as he heads for the locker room, pulling his t-shirt over his head. The exertion did it's job. He feels pretty loose and relaxed. Still not happy that Mac was sent off on his own, but Mac's a grown man; an agent, and a good one. He can handle himself. Mac will probably read him the riot act when he hears about his heated exchange with Patty, but hopefully that won't be until they've had a few beers and a few slices of pizza.

He unwraps his hands, flexing them gently. He might have overdone it a little on the bags. They're stiff and sore. Nothing some ice won't cure though.

He's just about to jump in the shower when he notices a missed call and voicemail from Mac. He sits down on the bench next to his locker to listen to the message.

"Hey, Jack, it's me," Mac's voice is low. It immediately puts Jack right back on edge. "I don't want to be overly suspicious here, but something-" he breaks off and Jack jumps up. "Just talking to my wife," Mac's voice continues, but distant, like he's pulled the phone away from his face, talking to someone in the room instead. "Letting her know I'm going to miss our lunch date. Okay, just let me..." Mac's voice comes closer again. "Jackie, I gotta go. Love you too, babe." The phone beeps, signally the end of the message.

He tries to call Mac. It goes straight to voicemail.

Jack plays the message again, pacing down the row of lockers as he listens.

He pulls on a shirt and rushes out of the locker room.

"I thought you were gonna shower," Riley asks, seeing that Jack is still flushed and sweaty when he exits.

"I need you to track Mac's phone," Jack says urgently.

Riley rolls her eyes. "I already told you, I'm not-"

"No, Riley, I think he's in trouble." He puts the phone on speaker and plays the message for the third time.

Riley looks up at him, eyes wide. "What do you think..." her voice trails off.

"I don't know, just help me find him."

* * *

"Fourth door on the left, Jack," Riley directs over comms. "Hallway's still clear but I've got nothing once you're inside the office."

Jack creeps down the corridor, gun drawn. He pauses outside the door, listening. He quickly pulls the door opened and slips inside, visually clearing the room. He gaze lands on a slumped figure handcuffed to an office chair. Head hanging down to his chest, blond hair falling over his face.

"Mac?" Jack hisses across the room to get his partner's attention.

"Oh, hey buddy!" Mac grins, lifting his head off his chest. His voice too loud.

Jack waves an arm at Mac, shushing him. He eases the door opened, and peers down the hallway again to make sure no one had heard Mac's exuberant greeting.

"Oh!" Mac shushes back. His gaze not quite focusing on Jack. "When'd you get here?"

Jack holsters his weapon, hurrying over to his partner.

"Just now." He squats next to Mac, brushing his hair out of his face. He lays a hand on Mac's chest. "What did they do to you?"

Mac frowns, thinking hard. His eyes widen as he remembers.

"They drugged me with a big needle," he says incredulously. "Big needle."

Jack chokes back a mirthless laugh at Mac's serious eyes, and very put out tone.

Mac pouts. "It's not funny." His pupils blown wide. His gaze still not quite meeting Jack's, drifting lazily off center.

"No, it's not funny," Jack says seriously. He closes his hand around Mac's wrist, feeling for his pulse. "You okay?"

Mac hums. "There's two of you, and you're both mad. That is kind of funny." He pauses. "You're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you."

Mac smiles. "Then it is funny."

Jack shakes his head. It is far from the first time he's dealt with a drugged Mac, whether it was bad guys with tranquilizers or medical necessity. He can never be quite sure how Mac is going to react. Sometimes clingy, sometimes argumentative, or somewhere in between, like a pendulum swinging between extremes often with little warning.

"Let me find something to get you out of those cuffs," Jack says, glancing around the room.

"These cuffs?" Mac asks, lifting his arms up and the bracelets around his wrists fall to the side. "Have you ever met a lock I couldn't pick?" He asks Jack in a chiding tone, as though insulted by the implication he couldn't pick a simple handcuff lock.

"You didn't think to just walk out of here once you had the cuffs off?" Jack asks and watches realization slowly dawn on Mac's face.

"They drugged my brain, not my fingers." Mac defends, as Jack starts to pull him up out of the chair.

Jack shakes his head. "Can you stand?"

"Of course," Mac says. He staggers to his feet, shrugging out of Jack's grasp and promptly tumbles to the floor.

"No, no, I got it," Mac says, trying to shove Jack's hands away, but missing entirely because of his altered depth perception.

Jack catches a flailing arm, ignoring Mac's protests and pulls him upright again.

"Oh," Mac grunts, bumping against Jack. "You're strong. A little fuzzy though." He reaches over and put his hand on Jack's bristly hair. "Not as fuzzy as it looks." Mac continues, rubbing his hand against Jack's head.

"I've got him, Ri. You got a clear exit for me?" Jack asks, trying to lean his head away from Mac's petting.

"Riley's here?" Mac asks, craning his neck and trying to look over his shoulder.

"On comms, Mac," Jack clarifies as Mac continues to wriggle out of Jack's grasp trying to see Riley. "Hold still, you're going to fall again."

"No, I'm not," Mac says petulantly. "Let's go see Riley."

"She's in the van." Jack pulls Mac closer to his side, and grasps his belt to try to keep him upright. "We'll go see Riley right now, but you've gotta stay standing up."

"Of course," Mac agrees, as if its the most obvious request in the world, and Jack didn't just pick him up off the floor.

Even with his arm across Jack's shoulders, Mac stumbles. His feet scrambling to stay under him. Mac is lean, wiry, doesn't mean he isn't heavy. Especially when his efforts to help, his loose movements, and asymmetrical gait throw off Jack's balance.

It's the third time in as many minutes that the pair has nearly lost their footing and gone crashing to the floor. Jack pulls Mac up and over his shoulder.

"Wow, you are strong."

Jack bites back a laugh. "You keep saying that, bud. You're not going to get sick like this are you?"

"Uh-uh," Mac replies.

"Quit squirming," Jack scolds. "Riley, can you pull the van up and meet us at the exit. Mac's doing his best to try to end up on the floor again."

"No, I'm not."

* * *

Mac glares suspiciously at Jack as they pull up to the Phoenix. "Why are we here?"

Jack is already pulling the van door open, and unbuckling Mac's seat belt.

"Mac," Jack's tone warning, preparing for an argument. "We're going to medical."

"No," Mac's eyes narrow further.

Jack tries to pull him upright. Mac resisting. "Don't fight me on this, hoss."

"I'm not going," Mac says. "There's no reason."

"You were drugged by an unknown substance," Jack says firmly, pulling Mac out of the van.

"But you can't even tell," Mac says, as he trips.

"Oh, believe me, bud, we can tell," Jack says, steering Mac inside. Mac's gait weaving, and unsteady. Mac is frowning, and Jack is preparing to just pick his partner up again and carry him the rest of the way. Though he has a feeling Mac will be less compliant and way more squirmy than he was before.

"Mac," Riley says. "Wouldn't you make Jack go, or me, if it was the other way around?"

Mac frowns harder. "Not necessarily." He stumbles over the word. He looks down, avoiding both Jack and Riley's raised eyebrows at his obvious lie. "That would be different. I need you to be okay."

"And I need _you_ to be okay, kiddo."

Mac's face twists in displeasure and reluctant acceptance.

"You're not going to make me stay, are you?"

"We'll do whatever the doctor says."

"I don't know..." Mac's voice trails off. His eyes darting, looking for an escape.

"Isn't that what you would make me do?"

"But I really don't want to stay," Mac says, turning his big blue eyes to looking pleadingly at Jack. It takes all of Jack's will power to not make that promise to Mac.

"We haven't even seen the doctor yet. Let's wait to burn that bridge when we get there."

"I don't think that's how the saying goes, Jack."

"Now you're just being argumentative."

Riley slides into place on Mac's other side; bringing his arm around her shoulders, sliding her arm around his waist. They've only been working together a few months, but the way Riley has seamlessly integrated into their team, Jack can't help but smile. He knows, of course, that there are still issues that need to be worked through, but this team is quickly becoming a family.

* * *

Mac knows, before he is even awake that he's home, in his bed; that he is safe. He isn't sure why that is a surprising thought. He takes stock in his body. None of the usual aches or pains that would normally accompany a mission gone wrong.

Then the pounding in his head makes itself known. Not a concussion though. Different. He tries to think back to the last thing he remembers. His memory a patchwork that he can't quite piece together.

"I know you're awake in there."

Mac frowns and opens his eyes. The lights are off and the blinds closed but he can still make out his partner sitting on the bed next to him.

"This isn't my room," Mac says in surprise.

"It might as well be, you stay over often enough. I'm thinking of making a sign for the door that says 'Mac's Room,'" Jack teases.

"I just... I thought I was at home."

Jack can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up slightly. "I brought you here; I couldn't let Bozer see you all doped up, not without questions."

"Oh yeah," Mac says, bits and pieces of the last day coming back to him. He struggles to sit up, and fights off a wave of dizziness that assaults him. Jack's hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Jack hands him a glass of water. Mac frowns, starting to refuse.

"I will take you back to medical if you give me half a reason," Jack says firmly. "And that dizziness is like at least a quarter of a reason already, maybe a third, so..."

Mac's eyes widen, recognizing the seriousness of Jack's tone. Reluctantly, he accepts the glass. The water is cool and refreshing. He's surprised by how good it tastes.

"Small sips for now," Jack says. "Don't need you getting sick again."

Mac's hands tremor slightly as he passes the glass back to Jack. "Guess I was right to be suspicious."

"You did good, kid. Thanks to you, Patty's got a Tac team taking over the place. They're up to their eyeballs in espionage."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Because I watch your back," Jack says simply, like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"Yeah, but you also run the Tac teams. I just thought you'd want to be there for the take down."

"I can run a tactical team anywhere. I could be a soldier or a sniper. Heck, I could be an agent with any one of the alphabet agencies, well, maybe not the CIA again. But the point is, if I were interested in doing any of those thing, I would be. But about five years ago, I took on my most important mission, keeping a bomb nerd with a silly name safe."

Mac looks down. He can't help the blush staining his cheeks, or stop the smile twitching on his lips.

"All that other stuff, doesn't matter. And it stopped being a job for me a long time ago. I watch your back."

* * *

The door swings shut and Patty engages the magnetic locks. Jack leans against the wall, arms crossed, smirking when she looks up.

"What?" Her tone icier than usual.

"Nothing," Jack says. His eyes taunting. "It's just cute that you think that's gonna hold him. You'd think you'd know better by now."

"I have removed every single thing from that room. It is as MacGyver proof as I can make it."

"Sure, but it's not as MacGyver proof as he could make it."

Patty raises an eyebrow. "I'm hoping he'll follow orders."

"Then I don't know what's funnier, that you think you can lock him in a room. Or that you think you can get him to obey an order when he thinks he's right."

"I wonder where he learned that from," Patty says, baiting him.

Jack pushes up from the wall. A cold smile frozen on his lips. "Kid's a genius. Probably thought it up all on his own."

"I guess we'll just have to track down Subject 218 before Mac makes a break for it. I've assembled a team in the war room."

"Good luck with that," Jack says, turning and walking in the other direction.

"A contract killer is after your partner," Patty says. "And you're going where?"

"To do my job."

"I don't understand."

_Bingo_, Jack thinks. He stops midstride, and slowly turns around.

"No, you don't, do you." His gait slow as he stalks back towards his boss.

There's been a tension between them lately, stemming from the confrontation about sending Mac on an assignment alone. It goes way beyond cold, borderline antagonistic. When that supposed easy assignment to consult at a lab went bad, and Mac was drugged, it took everything in Jack to not immediately confront Thornton and say _I told you so. _

He knows that is exactly what she expected. That she welcomed it even. She wanted him to bring it up, his temper hot, yelling and ready for a fight. She was prepared for another altercation, and she wanted the home field advantage. Wants him ranting and raving so she can put him in his place again.

Instead, he waited. Very few people who knew Jack Dalton would accuse him of being a patient man, and Patty seems to have fallen into that trap as well. Forgetting about his background as a sniper, as Delta.

And Jack's been an agent a long time. He recognizes when he's got the upper hand. He knows leverage when he sees it.

He knows how to bide his time when he's got an ace in the hole.

So he waits. Lets the tension build. Keeps her off balance.

"That's the whole point," he moves steadily into her personal space until they're eye to eye. It's very familiar from their last discussion. He wants her to know that he's finally making his move. "You think I'm here to be one of your agents, to lead your tactical team." He keeps his voice low, steady.

She stares him down. That's fine. She's good, one of the best. He never expected her to flinch.

"But my only purpose here, is to watch Mac's back. I think it's real important that we both understand that. Where he goes, I go. Doesn't matter if it's around the world, or down the block. You don't send him on a mission, on a consultation, on a coffee run without me."

Patty's jaw tightens, and Jack thinks maybe, just for a second, she'll balk at his demands. Remind him that she outranks him, that she's his boss. Instead she gives a slight nod of acquiescence. "Understood."

"Alright," Jack takes a step back. Replacing his cold, deadly smile with one that reaches his eyes. He gives a little wave as he walks down the hall. "Good luck on your man hunt. Mac and I will call when we've caught the psycho. What do you think? Five minute before he busts out that room?"


End file.
